Finally a kiss
by Kreuse
Summary: Collections of drabbles of Arthur and Morgana's kisses. *incest implied - don't read if it's not your thing*
1. Chapter 1

**A/N : just a drabble. Warning, incest implied, yet not enough for M rating.**

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><p>He smiled to her only a moment ago and now his knuckles are gently caressing her face. She rests her cheek in his palm. She hadn't even realized she was looking for the soft contact. His mouth is on her forehead, her cheekbone, her jaw; it doesn't muse long there, heading to the crook of her shoulder, pressing to her throat, so lightly it feels like a dream, a feather, yet strong enough to break the ice around her heart.<p>

She is glad he took the initiative, dismissing her whine when she protested, feebly; he's right, their half-shared blood doesn't matter now, if it ever did. His breath journeys up, warming her skin, teasing her chin until it finds her lips. No hesitation there, either, when he takes the kiss that was his all along and makes her warm again, whole again.

The hard loneliness that has been her prison for so long melts away under his mouth. The pain, the anger, the fear fused into longing. She is where she belongs, in her prince's arms; his strength surrounds her and forms a shelter where she is welcome, always was. Who knew how much could be won from a kiss and a caress. Morgana didn't. Maybe Arthur did.

It doesn't matter. Only matters eternity and its murmur.

"I love you."

_The end is only the beginning_  
><em>September 2011<em>


	2. Chapter 2

He kisses he like a hungry man, like she's the only thing that can help him keep him sane. It is desperate, also, the way he clutches to her, and in his embrace she finds back some of the boy he used to be, yearning for his father's approval, a sign, any sign his father loved him. A sign Uther couldn't give, because he didn't know how.

Morgana kisses Arthur back, and she's angry. She's angry with Uther, for not trying. She's angry with Gwen, for taking the man she loved and forcing emotions on him he was not ready for, then betraying him when she realized that. She's angry with Arthur for taking the easy way. She's angry with herself, for leaving him behind in her hatred, for not seeing he still needed her so much.

Much later, when the flames fall asleep in the chimney and the only important things are her head on his chest and his arms around her, Morgana whispered.

"I'm sorry I failed you."


	3. Chapter 3

**Warning : possible spoiler from 4x13**

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><p><em>The knife plunged close to her heart, exquisitely painful. Life started pulsing off her body and she felt horribly cold…<em>

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><p>Morgana pushed upright on the bed, gasping air like each breath could be her last. She shivered and her movements finally awoke the man by her side. Strong arms circled her upper body to bring her back on the pillows.<p>

"What is it, Morgana?"

"I..." she hesitated a moment "I had a nightmare."

Arthur pulled her a little closer.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

She shook her head and nestled against her king's side. One of his hands slipped under her shift to caress the skin of her back. His beard grazed her cheek when he pressed tiny kisses on her forehead and her temple, smoothing the terror away.

"Tell me about your dream…"

Safe in his arms, the pain was again a souvenir.

"It's nothing; just the past haunting me."

The kisses brushed her jaw and Arthur shifted his weight on the bed for a better access to her neck. Morgana giggled softly when he fumbled with the knot of her nightshirt. By the time he reached her shoulder, their garments had dissolved into thin air. Sometimes, he just loved magic.

Morgana circled his shoulders with both arms with a smirk.

"Will you honor your queen tonight, Sire?"

"Only if she wants me to."

His blue eyes were serious, even if his mouth curled in that infuriating smile of his. Her features softened.

"Love me, Arthur."

The next kisses were hers.


	4. Chapter 4

**Written for Merlin Calendar on LJ.**

(sorry, no beta; I own nothing).

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><p><strong>Christmas socks<strong>

Morgana heard a noise coming from the familial room, just a hush really, and she muffled her gasp of surprise behind both hands. Her nanny had said Saint Nicholas was nothing but an invention. He didn't exist. Adults made his character up so spoiled princesses accepted to have their hair properly brushed and behave. Morgana had cried her eyes out because of the crushed children fantasy. Even Uther had inquired about her red eyes at supper.

Nanny was mean and she hurt her pulling so hard on her tangled dark curls. It wasn't Morgana's fault if she preferred horse riding and sword-plays with the boys rather than staying seated to do embroidery. She really didn't like embroidery. But was it possible Nanny had lied? She had definitely heard a noise coming from inside. The old man was really here and maybe if she went and apologized, and curtsied really nicely, he would leave her a present. She would promise to be good and obey when she was told to stay still, even when she was bored to death.

Morgana pushed the door open and entered the room. Her little feet barely made noise on the bare floor.

"Oh… What are you doing here?"

Arthur dropped the ginger man biscuit he was trying to stuff in her Christmas sock, hanged next to his on the mantel. He pouted, annoyed to have been caught. "Nothing."

Nanny had told the truth. Saint Nick didn't exist, and even if she was very good and did as she was told all year long, he would never bring her father back for Christmas. Morgana wanted to cry. The little prince murmured:

"Dad said if we misbehave we would not find a present in our socks. And Nanny was really mad at you this afternoon… I wanted you to have one anyway."

Surprised, Morgana dried her eyes. He was contemplated the pieces of the broken biscuit on the floor. Arthur could be really sweet when he wanted to. She tiptoed toward him and very quickly, because she wanted to be able to deny she had done anything if he protested, she planted a kiss on his cheek.

"Thank you."

The blond prince opened wide blue eyes in shock, and grinned.

"You like me!"

"Do not."

"Do to."

Morgana snorted.

"I am going to bed."

She prepared to turn around, her chin proudly up just like Nanny told her to, when Arthur stopped her by the sleeve.

"It's okay; I like you too."

Morgana softened, and both children sat on the floor with the biscuit between them. He said:

"Do you think it's still good to eat?"

"I don't know. It looks weird."

Arthur plopped a piece into his mouth and swallowed with a grimace.

"Tastes weird too. I think I don't like ginger bread."

He pushed on his feet.

"Let's go to the kitchens. They already started to prepare for tomorrow feast… Surely they will give us a piece of something better than that."

The little prince offered his hand.

"My Lady Morgana."

The girl giggled and curtsied graciously.

"My Champion."

Uther watched them exit the room hand in hand and smiled. One day, these innocent words would take another meaning entirely. In the meantime, he had presents to put in two Christmas socks.

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><p><em>Merry Armor Christmas<em>

_December 2011_


	5. Chapter 5

As usual, I own nothing, except "SECOND CHANCES"... Check my website or Amazon :)

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><p>Morgana smiled at the overused compliment, snatched the offered glass and excused herself. The balcony was empty, which suited her just fine. Some men just never learnt… The hand in her back nearly made her jump out of her skin.<p>

"Gwaine misses you."

"Gwaine is sure he is God's gift to women."

Arthur stole her glass from her to drain it with a smirk.

"Given that you're the fourth to walk out on him, he's obviously not."

They were close, enough so his body protected her from the wind. Close enough to feel embarrassed if anyone dared interrupt them. She couldn't step away, mesmerized by his warmth or too proud to admit he affected her. Her voice lacked her usual smugness, though.

"Obviously."

Arthur backed just enough to catch the glint of amusement/embarrassment in her eyes. His laugh sprang the air to life. And suddenly, he was playing with a ringlet escaped from her complicated bun, his fingers brushing on the length of her throat. Her lips parted under the caress, he should not, not here, not ever… Her sigh was the only encouragement he needed to pull her closer and capture her mouth.

His tongue tasted of the wine he just drank, possessive. Morgana lost herself in the embrace she longed for all night long; all her life. She moved away for a brief second, too long anyway, to whisper his name. Arthur crushed her in his arms for another second.

"Later…"

One single word, balancing between a question and a prayer. Her smile was the only answer he needed for both.


	6. Chapter 6

The dance ended, yet Arthur kept his arms around her, forbidding her to move away from him now her duty was done. Annoyed, Morgana looked up.

"You can let go of me now, Arthur."

The glint in his eyes unsettled her as much as his chuckle riled her.

"What if I don't want to?"

"What if I kick my knee up?"

To her satisfaction, his smile flinched momentarily.

"Then I'll be in pain, and you'll be sorry."

She hated when he was right. Or tricked her in doing his will. The other dancers had started another tour, swirling around them without paying much attention to their bickering. Morgana resigned herself to be escorted back to the royal table by the possessive hand in her back, pouting for good measure.

"We wouldn't want that, I suppose."

"No, we wouldn't."

Arthur was still immobile on the dance floor so she reported her attention to his face. His stare had taken a new shade of blue, deeper, quite fascinating though she would not admit it freely. She closed her eyes to print the color in her memory. Then he kissed her. It was not really a kiss, mind you, more a brush of lips of some sort. Her eyes snapped open at the loss of contact, the tip of her tongue tingling with outrage and… yes, desire.

"Shall we?"

She chose to let his question unanswered. For now.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Not exactly a kiss... Though they obviously kissed in the past...**

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><p>"Don't think you're going to sleep here tonight!"<p>

Arthur jumped at the snap, losing his footing. He landed heavily on the bed, eliciting a growl from the woman lying there.

"Morgana… You're awake…"

"Obviously!"

_Awake, and not clearly not happy…_

He slurred, "sorry. I thought you were asleep…"

"Well, I'm not. That's too bad, isn't it?" she hissed.

Arthur cringed. He drank too much and the high-pitch in her voice was already sending nasty pulses against his skull.

"Morgana…"

He leaned over her, aiming for a kiss. She shove him away roughly.

"No! Don't touch me!"

Her voice climbed up another octave. This time, he pouted.

"Wanna kiss you…"

"Out of question. You're drunk!"

"Am not…"

Well, not that much. He tried to sit beside her and wobbled forward, barely staying on his feet. All right, maybe he was a bit tipsy. Morgana shifted difficultly on the bed to forbid him that seat.

Arthur sighed. He tried another approach.

"How are you feeling? Do you need anything?"

She snorted.

"As if you cared."

"I care, Morgana, or I wouldn't ask."

He was tired, and the argument not exactly what he had in mind when he left their friends in the bar.

"If you did, you would have stayed with me, instead of going to that party."

"But you told me to go!"

_Wrong answer..._ Her clear eyes turned as clear as ice, and just as cold.

"AND OF COURSE YOU CHOSE THAT MOMENT TO START LISTEN TO ME!"

The little patience he still held blew up.

"How could I know you wanted me to stay? You could have come to, Gwen wanted to see you."

"Right. So she could gloat about her slender waist and perfect form while I look like a whale."

Morgana crawled up to rest her back against the mountain of pillows behind her. Arthur automatically reached to help her. She was well into her seventh month, and each movement looked painfully hard. She slapped his hand away.

"You don't mean that, Morgana… You're just-"

"Don't tell me how I feel! You have no idea! You didn't have nausea for four months! Your body is still yours! You don't have those stupid, disgusting cravings all the time! I'm so sick of it… I'm so tired of coming second, while you enjoy the same things you always did, while I'm stuck in bed because of that stupid idiotic-"

He had stopped listening. Actually, his brain stopped working midway through her sentence. Morgana exploded "You don't even listen to me!"

Arthur pushed her legs aside to sit. He grabbed her wrists, tugging as gently as his shortening patience allowed him. She jerked, trying to free herself, but he held tight.

"Don't say I see you or our son for a second choice. I don't."

Morgana pinched her lips hard.

"I love you. You're everything I ever wanted."

She turned her head. Arthur slowly ran his thumb over her inner wrist. Her pulse raced madly under his touch.

"Morgana look at me..."

She refused to obey. Her shoulders stiffened slightly. Arthur risked touching her arm. She didn't push away, so he brushed some rebel ebony hair away, baring her neck. Her chin shivered.

"Look at me, Love…"

Her eyes glittered when he managed to catch her gaze.

"Don't cry, honey… It's all right… I love you, please don't cry…"

The more he tried to reassure her, the wetter her cheeks became. She quavered, "I'm sorry… I'm horrible… I just can't… control… I hate it!… I'm such a moody wreck… I'm so sorry, please don't leave me… Don't leave me… I won't-"

"I'm not going anywhere."

Arthur pulled her into his chest, lying with her on the mattress. She cuddled closer, wrapped in his arms. The hormonal rushed had her swing from a harpy to an unsecure kitten quicker than it took Merlin to say "sorry". No matter how hard he tried, he never managed to make her see how beautiful she was, how desirable and amazing. He wished she could see herself with his eyes, his dark angel, his Morgana. But she didn't, so the only thing he could do was keeping her close, and murmur "I love you" until she fell asleep. Maybe in a couple of weeks, she would remember that one cold day last winter she had believed him hard enough to say "yes".


	8. Chapter 8

Arthur took a step back.

"What happened to you Morgana? As a child you were so kind and considerate…"

The glacial glare flickered away, then assaulted his face once again.

"I grew up."

She lifted one arm. The enchanted sword lunged forward. Arthur fell on his knees.

"Morgana… Please wait. Before you kill me, at least hear me out…"

"Why would I? It's too late for words. Goodbye, Arthur Pendragon."

The pain lurking behind the venom of her voice hurt more than the blade slicing through his shoulder. Arthur felt his heart shattered in a million pieces.

"I… I'm sorry."

The sword danced around his neck. She was beautiful in her anger, always had been. More graceful than a human being had the right to be, ethereal, her skin kissed by the moon and her eyes the color of evergreen forests.

The emerald shade he used to cherish whenever they confronted or pleaded his own sapphire stare was gone now. Her pupils had paled to ice with the passing years. Her stare was colder than winter and so sad… Her heart bleed and the pain mirrored in her eyes. He saw it. He always could read her eyes like no one else. Arthur took off his gloves, never looking away from her face.

"Do you remember the promise you made, the day father send me on my first mission? Would you hold you word now?"

She blinked quickly. The blade trembled. She remembered.

"You broke every promise you made to me ever since. Why would I keep mine now?"

"Because you are better than me. Always was. Please."

He extended one hand toward her.

It had happened so long ago. But he remembered the scene as if it had happened yesterday. His first command in battle. There were rumors about Saxons plundering the coast. They were fierce warriors, showing no mercy to their opponents or their prisoners. He was only fifteen. He had feared to fail. But Morgana had come to his chambers at dawn to help with his armor, as she always did before tournaments. As if the whole mission was just another game to win. She had said he would not die that day. She had promised that she would be there to hold his hand, the day he would die. That she would not let him die alone. He had never imagined she would be the one to kill him.

"I'm sorry Morgana."

His arm trembled in the effort to keep his hand up. The slashes in his body burnt like hell. Her eyes detailed his face, looking for a weakness, trying to guess if the display was the trap.

After what felt like an eternity, she took one step toward him, and took his hand. The blade was moved forward at the same time, pressing against his wound shoulder, slopping toward his heart. It didn't matter. He deserved to be punished for the pain he had caused her. He had neglected her. Even though he could see she was struggling with God knew what, that she was afraid, that maybe she needed _him_, he had cast her aside for instant, easier rewards. The heartache he felt now, she had endured it alone for years. If his death could bring her some solace, then be it.

Arthur forced his head up, to see her delicate face once again, before he closed his eyes forever. Her vivid eyes had darkened again, to that green he loved so much. Her hand was small into his, light as a feather, like it used to be.

"I…"

She was trembling. She had never trembled before. Arthur closed his fingers around hers. She didn't pull away. A shadow moved in her back.

He pulled her to him abruptly, "Mordred, no!"

The young man's dagger clung on the ground. Morgana struggled to stand up, her free hand pressed to her flank. Her eyes glittered like gold once more, the flames dying slowly. Arthur refused to release her. Instead, he brought her closer, encasing her in his arms, before he scooped her up awkwardly. Her eyes flickered from him to the young man on the ground, and Merlin. She looked like a trapped animal. Blood soaked his sleeve in her back.

"Don't worry, you'll be all right. We'll both be. I promise."

She sneered, a smirk he knew well straining her lips.

"Don't make promises you won't keep, my king."

Arthur adjusted his hold so her head rested in the crook of his neck.

"You're the only one who can teach me how to."

"You're a lost cause, I fear…"

"A good thing you're stubborn then."

Her chuckle turned into a moan of pain.

"Arthur…"

He pressed his lips to her forehead.

"I hear you, Morgana. This time I hear you."

_The end is only the beginning_

_November 2012_


	9. Chapter 9

She's woken up by a muffled sound. The air vibrates around her, as if someone had crashed into the wall next to her door and the energy had reverberated inside her apartment. Morgana rolls her head in circles to ease the kink in her neck. Maybe falling asleep on the couch wasn't such a glorious idea after all. It wasn't her plan either. The clock next to the TV set declares that if she goes to bed now, maybe she can grab another handful hours of sleep.

She's pushing herself upright, readying to get up when the door flings open. She knows only of two persons who let themselves in such a careless way, and one gave back his key earlier this morning. Arthur tumbles toward her couch before he slouches beside her.

She pinches her lips tight. Who does he think he is, breaking in like this? His shirt is wrinkled, his hair tousled, and she can smell the characteristic stink of pubs on him. Morgana opens his mouth to scowl him. He slurs, "Gwen…"

'_Oh.' _

"You don't look surprise. Did you know she was-"

He cut his sentence halfway, his eyes boring into hers. Pain and anger filled his stare. They are too heavy so his gaze sank to the floor. Morgana touches his arm and Arthur nestles in her shoulder like he used to do, when they were children and his father was too hard on him. His breath is saturated with alcohol. He's drunk. He's hurt. Telling the truth is going to hurt him even more. But she has to be honest. He deserves no less from her.

"I suspected something was going on between her and Lance. I'm sorry…"

Arthur grunts in her neck, something between a sob and a yowl. She hates Gwen.

They stay like this for a while. Arthur's raged breathing heating her skin, her arms tightened around him for comfort. When he finally looks up, his eyes are bluer, as blue as the ocean can be after a tempest when the sky clears. She lets him push away. Arthur sits with his elbows on his knees, his neck craned so he can look around.

"Where's Gwaine?"

Of course he had to notice the half-empty shelves. Morgana answers curtly.

"Gone."

Arthur straightens up. Normally, he wouldn't push; he would wait for her to complete her sentence, or accept that she doesn't. But he's drunk and not thinking straight. So he asks, "why?"

Morgana is the one to turn away this time. She's embarrassed, or a little sad. She doesn't want Arthur to read her eyes.

"He asked me to marry him."

Morgana glares back at him, daring him to comment. He ignores it. Surprise lights his face.

"Isn't that what you wanted?"

She hisses back.

"How could you know what I want?"

Arthur is a bit thrown away by the bitterness. He never realized that was a soft spot.

"That what you said. When we were younger and talked about the future. You said you wanted a pretty house, with flowers bed, a white fence and a bunch of children hanging from your apron."

She crosses her arms over her chest, looking away to the TV which is still blinking.

"Well apparently I lied."

Arthur takes her chin in one hand to force her stare to meet his. She winces. The alcohol made the gesture a tad more abrupt that he intended; or did it?

"I can tell when you're lying. You weren't."

Morgana feels trapped. She wants to escape his scrutiny, but he's stronger than she is, even if he's wasted.

"Maybe I didn't want it with him."

Arthur releases her chin and chuckles. He nudges her shoulder.

"With whom then? Not Gwaine, Leon, Merlin, Odin, Cendred…"

She frowns as the list of names extends. He's just teasing. She doesn't want to bicker now. Morgana stands.

"I'll forget this because you're obviously inhibited. I'm going to bed. You can sleep here but if you feel an urgent need to throw up please use the bathroom instead of-."

Arthur's hand around her wrist shuts her up. She looks down and that's her second mistake of the night.

"Morgana…"

The first was to let him start this conversation altogether.

"Good night Arthur."

But it's too late. He pulls her onto his lap, and his lips seal with hers, and she knows it's a mistake, another one, but it's Arthur kissing her, her Arthur, and she lets him. His hands aren't clumsy now. Her tee-shirt is hiking up her thighs, he brushes her legs and her waist, caressing her as if she was a piece of porcelain which is going to break. She shouldn't let him touch her like this, it should feel wrong, but it's right. His tongue tastes of bourbon and those cheap cigarillos he swore he had stopped smoking. The world sways around her and suddenly she's under him, and nothing else matters but having another kiss or another caress.

She moans when he twists her head aside to access her neck, because the muscles scream in pain at the gesture, or maybe because of the fireworks his skillful tongue is lighting on her skin. Arthur stops. His eyes are truly clearer this time. Concern is battling lust in his stare and maybe, just maybe, responsibility is on the verge of winning. So Morgana murmurs, "I want a dog too."

_The end is only the beginning  
><em>_November 2012_

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><p><strong><em>AN:_ We need more ArMor fanfics... **


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